


Cowardly Escape

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Series: Striptease II [8]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the heck is that cow doing in camp??</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cowardly Escape

“Dad.”

Snore. Grunt. LJ rolled his eyes and nudged Lincoln. “Dad!”

“Mphump. Wha'?”

“There's a cow trying to eat your boxer shorts.”

“Mmm.” Silence. Then, “Say that again?!”

“There's a cow outside your tent. It's chewing on your boxer shorts.”

“What the hell!” Lincoln sat bolt upright, furiously blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “A cow?”

“Yeah, a cow. You know, the big animal with horns and udders,” LJ grinned, backing out of the tent. Lincoln and Michael had both crawled to sleep in LJ's tent, while LJ had found his way into C-Note and Sucre's tent. They were both away from the camp anyway.

“Kid! Where are Michael and Lincoln?” Sucre came running towards him at a trot.

“Sleeping, in my tent,” LJ said. “Did you find out what's going on?”

Lincoln came crawling out of LJ's tent, shading his eyes against the sun. “What the hell...”

The cow had abandoned Lincoln's boxer shorts (which had mysteriously disappeared over the course of the previous evening, only to end up outside one of the tents) and was calmly grazing around their camp fire.

“I found the herder,” Sucre said, looking at the reddish brown animal with annoyance. “There's some freaking farm a few miles north. He told us to get the fuck off the property before he gets back from lunch, or he'd call the cops. We need to move.”

“Michael,” Lincoln yelled, “get up!”

“Shut up, Sink,” Abruzzi growled from their tent.

Lincoln ignored him and turned back into the tent to wake Michael. “Sucre, get C-Note and pack your tent up. LJ, wake Abruzzi and T-Bag.”

LJ grinned and headed for the far tent. They had escaped the cops, the FBI, the American and the Mexican authorities and everyone else for months – and here they were, running from a cow eating Lincoln's boxer shorts. _If that's not ironic, then what is?_

“Morning, guys,” he said, poking his head into the tent – only to be met with the sight of Abruzzi and T-Bag kissing languorously, almost affectionately. Abruzzi on top of T-Bag. Both bare naked, of course.

“Come to join in, boi?” T-Bag smirked, winking at LJ.

The boy blushed. “We need to move,” he said. “Right now. Some farm guy knows we're here, and he's going to call the cops if we're not gone when he comes back.”

The two men exchanged glances, then T-Bag shrugged and they sat up, reaching for clothing. LJ quickly left the tent and headed over to his own tent. _Like a fucking honeymoon. What the hell happened to_ them _last night?_

***

“Why not?”

“Because people come to the beach to go swimming, Lincoln,” Michael sighed, rubbing his temples. Finding a new spot to make camp was proving difficult.

“So? I'm not saying we have to camp _in_ the fucking sand, just closer to the water than we did last time.”

“I agree with Sink,” C-Note said, wiping his forehead. “It's too hot; we need access to water.”

“Fine, fine,” Michael said, putting the rolled-up tent down. “I'll go look for a good spot. I'll go this way, and Sucre the other way. The rest of you stay here with the tents.”

After a quick search of the area, they established that a five minute walk was not a bad distance to the beach, and that the small hill Sucre had found was a good backdrop for a camp that wasn't supposed to be too easily visible. It took an hour or so reorganizing the tents and “fireplace”, but when they were done, the camp was looking remarkably like the one they had dissembled not three hours ago.

Lincoln threw down the spare length of rope. “Come on, we're going swimming.”

“What, now?” Michael said.

“No, sometime next week, uncle Mike,” LJ added, following his father away from the tents.

“I think I'm just gonna hang around here,” C-Note said, eyeing Abruzzi and T-Bag warily. It was obvious he suspected they would turn the swimming into an orgy, as was their habit in his eyes.

Sucre voiced his agreement, pulling out his deck of cards. “Poker?”

Michael, Abruzzi and T-Bag followed the two Burrows'. It had to be about a hundred degrees in the air.

***

“Shit, it's cold,” LJ gasped, wading out into the water.

“Pussy,” Lincoln grinned, clearly as sensitive as ever. Michael had to laugh at his brother's eloquence.

“That would be ass, Sink,” T-Bag pointed out, slapping this very part of LJ's anatomy as he passed him. “And a damn fine one, too.”

Despite cold water and slight coordination-difficulties-due-to-hangovers, all five of them eventually found themselves waist deep in the salt water. Lincoln tried swimming for a few strokes, but quickly found out that required too much effort. Abruzzi laid back to float, just as T-Bag stumbled against him. This resulted in both the mobster and the murderer finding themselves beneath the water's surface.

“Dumb fuck,” Abruzzi growled, resurfacing and blinking the water out of his eyes.

“Aw, c'mon now, don't ya feel jus' a lil' bit nostalgic here?” T-Bag grinned, apparently trying to bat his eyelashes at the taller man. Michael laughed at the sight.

“Why, what happened here?” LJ asked, succeeding where Abruzzi had failed in floating on his back.

“Not here, exactly,” Abruzzi said dismissively. “It's just Teddy here who got his first hickey in a place kind of like this.”

Michael laughed harder. “You mean to tell me that _you_ gave him his first hickey?”

T-Bag affected a pout. “Ya shouldn' be so mean, Pretty.”

“Which reminds me,” Abruzzi suddenly said, pulling T-Bag to him. “You need another one.”

T- Bag gave a hiss of agreement as the taller man dipped his head in order to fasten his lips over a soft spot just below T-Bag's collar bone. The three others watched with obvious interest as the Alabamian's eyes fluttered close and his hand tangled in Abruzzi's hair.

Lifting his head from T-Bag's body, Abruzzi grinned. “Now isn't that a pretty sight?”

“No,” Lincoln snorted, tossing his head at Michael to have the younger man come closer to him. “I think I can make better ones.”

Michael could only smirk as he felt the tickling suction and heat of Lincoln's mouth go to work at the side of his throat. Lincoln and Abruzzi would never stop fighting for the position of alpha male, although they no longer had to compete over ´mates`, and he was pretty sure Lincoln was determined to prove himself better at producing hickeys than the older man.

“Not bad, Sink,” Abruzzi conceded as a largish, purple spot shone on Michael's neck. “But I am still pretty sure I'm better with my mouth than you are.” As if to prove his point, he kissed T-Bag deeply, one hand fisting in the shorter man's hair.

“Not a chance in hell you are.” Lincoln picked up on the challenge immediately. Michael laughed in exasperation. _Oh, how mature, Linc._ His laughter was quickly swallowed by Lincoln as the older man pressed their lips together, teasingly and affectionately. The kiss was typically Lincoln and Michael loved it.

When they finally broke apart, Abruzzi was looking at them with a challenging expression. “Kiss Theodore, Sink.”

Lincoln stared at Abruzzi. “Why the hell would I want to kiss T-Bag?”

“Kiss him, and I'll kiss Fish,” Abruzzi said. “I think we need a second opinion.”

Lincoln, looking for all the world as if he had already won, waded over to T-Bag. “Fine.”

Michael watched hungrily as Lincoln's lips descended on T-Bag's. The shorter man opened his mouth eagerly under Lincoln's lips, and within half a second, the two men were making out like there was no tomorrow.

To everyone's surprise ( _Understatement of the year! Shock, judging by Abruzzi's look!_ Michael thought), it was T-Bag who broke the kiss. “Not bad at all, Sink,” the Alabamian purred, looking to Abruzzi. “Now go show the Pretty how the big boys kiss, John.”

Michael, as willing as T-Bag, yielded to the older man's lips and let the strong tongue invade his mouth. John's kiss was rough, demanding, dominating and merciless. While the kiss was enough to make Michael hard, he couldn't help but comparing it to Lincoln's, and by far preferred the latter.

“So,” Abruzzi said, moving away from Michael, smirking. “Who's the best kisser?”

Michael stated “Lincoln” half a second after T-Bag said “John”. LJ was the first who started laughing.

“You guys are totally immature,” the boy said, cheeky grin in place. “I think I'll end this before it turns into a fist fight; Michael thinks Lincoln is better because he loves him, and T-Bag thinks Abruzzi is better because he's his bitch.”

“And no one cares, because you faggots are just fucking around anyway. Sluts, all of you.”

Four incredulous faces turned to Sucre, who was standing at the beach, smirking at them. LJ laughed harder than ever.

“I'm gonna have a swim,” he announced, kicking his shoes off and pulling the t-shirt over his head. “And if any of you even think about it, I'll fucking bust your ass.”

Michael went to rub LJ's back, as the boy was obviously having trouble breathing for gasps of laughter. The three other men scowled angrily at Sucre.

“Are you being a smart ass, _señorita_?” Abruzzi growled, all but cracking his knuckles at the Puerto Rican.

“Yeah, I am,” Sucre said; having rid himself of his shorts and boxer shorts, he waded into the water before throwing himself forwards to swim.

Sucre, already several strokes away, pretended not to hear as T-Bag loudly drawled, “Well, ain't he gotten looser. Looks like someone got lucky last night!”

Michael smiled to himself. Yes, someone did indeed. And he had no intention of leaving it at that.

Sucre had no idea what he was in for.


End file.
